


Assortment

by RubyFiamma



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: 5980 - Freeform, 8059 week, Begging, Blindfolds, Cock Bondage, Day Four Prompt "Ties", Dirty Talk, Light Bondage, M/M, Makeshift Cockrings, No Plot/Plotless, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Simultaneous Orgasm, Unconventional Use of Dying Will Flames
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-22 09:46:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3724312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubyFiamma/pseuds/RubyFiamma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gokudera has too many ties and comes up with an <i>interesting</i> alternative use for them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Assortment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tastewithouttalent](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/gifts).



> Day 4 of 8059 Week  
> Prompt "Ties"

**Prompt** : Day 4, _**Ties**_

**Assortment**

* * *

 

Yamamoto doesn't expect to see Gokudera sitting distracted on the edge of their bed when he gets out of the shower. It startles him at first but his lips are already forming into an easy smile and his eyes are already falling to the perplexed pull of Gokudera's mouth. He looks like he's done for the day, still dressed in slacks and a crimson red dress shirt, his shoes and jacket likely left at the front door.

"Hey," he greets, clad only in a towel wrapped around his waist. He's taking a few steps forward to reach for the soft of Gokudera's hair, to brush it away from his face so that he'd have an unobstructed view of what's holding the other's focus so intently. "You're home early."

"I have a lot of ties," Gokudera answers vaguely as Yamamoto's fingertips graze the silver strands, and he's tipping his head up to catch Yamamoto's gaze. His eyes are dark, the green-grey of nearly eclipsed by the black of his pupils and his lips are slowly curling into a smirk before Yamamoto has the chance to question what it is that he means.

"You do," Yamamoto laughs, looking over Gokudera's shoulder to find an array of material spread out over the bottom of the bed. Gokudera has a ridiculous assortment of ties. He usually keeps them lined neatly in two dresser drawers separated by colour, pattern and texture. What's laid out on the bed is no different, and Yamamoto's curiosity is piqued. "What's with all this?"

"I have a _lot_ of ties," Gokudera repeats as Yamamoto nods, "so I was thinking we could find another use for some." The tone of his voice is low, and he's still wearing that smirk and all of Yamamoto's blood goes to his head in a tingling rush.

"Okay," he says, slowly, like he's working over each letter on his tongue. Gokudera's gaze is burning through him like wildfire, setting flame to his veins and when Gokudera reaches out for Yamamoto's hip, instant heat prickles his skin and for a moment his breath hitches in his throat. Gokudera's getting to his feet, his fingers still pressed into the flesh at Yamamoto's hip and Yamamoto takes a step back to allow Gokudera into his space. His face is inches away, and Yamamoto's eyes drop to his mouth the second the other opens it to speak.

"Do you trust me, Takeshi?" he asks coyly. His hand is sliding from Yamamoto's hip and up his chest, his rings leading a cooling trail behind his radiant palm, and Yamamoto can't catch a breath, his heart's stalling out and his stomach is swooping like he's just hit zero gravity.

"O-of course," he stammers, too focused on the shape of Gokudera's mouth at this distance, and the taste of intoxication against a fiery backdrop for him to question why Gokudera's asking.

"Good," hums Gokudera as his hand curls around the back of Yamamoto's neck and his fingers are sifting through the inky black of Yamamoto's still damp hair. He's pulling Yamamoto down in invitation as he tips his chin up to fit their mouths together, licking fire along the seam of Yamamoto's lips and the floor underneath Yamamoto seems to suddenly fall out from underneath him. His knees buckle and he's reaching out and grasping the sharp angles of Gokudera's hips stabilise himself.

The kiss isn't much of a kiss, it's a tease just enough to get Yamamoto to feel like he's going to melt, and Gokudera's pulling back and licking at his lips. "You taste good," he says as he lifts his other hand and pulls at the knot of his tie.

"You always do," Yamamoto manages, licking the taste of Gokudera off his own lips, and he does taste good, like coffee and spice and smoke all rolled into a heady flavour that has Yamamoto chasing Gokudera's mouth for more, except Gokudera's arching back and now dragging his tie loose.

"What are you going to do?" Yamamoto asks, leaning in anyway and pressing his lips to Gokudera's neck. His pulse is steady, not at all like the rapid fluttering of Yamamoto's own. There's movement and Gokudera's saying something but he's gliding his tongue up Gokudera's neck and is too in tune to the sound of the other's pulse for him to be paying any attention. There's a sharp tug at his hair and a growl of frustration and when he lifts his head, Gokudera's smiling and his eyes are shadowed and there's not a inkling of irritation but Yamamoto asks anyways. "Did you say something?"

Gokudera's smile stretches but it's crooked and Yamamoto catches the blur of movement out of his peripherals before his vision is blacked out and there's a luxurious soft sliding across the bridge of his nose. "I said, 'Or maybe you won't', idiot."

It doesn't make sense to Yamamoto until he pieces the last bits of conversation with the addition of the dark tie omitting all light and he thinks Gokudera must have said ' _You'll see_.' and he has to chuckle at the pun. He feels Gokudera's hands at the back of his head, working what he can only assume is a knot, and he can't help the grin that's pressing into his cheeks.

"A blindfold, huh?" is what he asks to state the obvious. "Is this what we'll be doing with all those ties on the bed?"

"Don't be ridiculous," he hears Gokudera scoff, and he's feeling a gust of breath on his bare shoulder so Gokudera must be leaning in close. "I have other ideas for those." His voice is dipping low and it's right at Yamamoto's ear. It makes him shudder, makes his skin flush with warmth but the hairs on the back of his neck are bristling and he's shuddering despite the warm temperature inside their bedroom.

"Oh." Yamamoto feels Gokudera's fingertips brushing slow against his skin, along his arms and elbows and down to press on the insides of his wrists. He's moving Yamamoto's hands from his waist and interlocking their fingers. Yamamoto feels a breath at his chest just beneath his collarbone and then the warmth of Gokudera's lips are pressing against his flesh, tentative and lingering. Yamamoto wants to lift his hands and fit his fingers in Gokudera's hair, wants to feel the elegant silver that he can't see but Gokudera doesn't let him. His grip tightens, and then he's pulling Yamamoto's hands together in front of him as his mouth disappears from Yamamoto's skin. He whimpers at the loss, but it's nothing committal when he's flipping through images all the possibilities of what the future has to hold. He feels like he should say something to break the silence but he can see Gokudera's features in his minds eye, collectively pulling together in deliberate determination, his plush lips pursed with a wet shine from licking against them and the green of his eyes sharp and on fire, focused in on the task at hand and though he can't see Gokudera's face, he quite likes the look of that expression rather than the scrawl of agitation of having his concentration broken.

Gokudera's wrapping something around his wrists now, and Yamamoto has to shift his weight to his other leg and with the motion, the towel slips from his waist and falls around his feet. He feels s cool rush of air that only sticks to his skin for a minute and he laughs short, out of hardly embarrassment but more of a need to fill the space up with sound. "That's one way to get naked," he chirps, heat rising from his neck to ride high in his cheeks.

"Idiot," Gokudera scolds, and if anything he sounds amused and Yamamoto can picture the face the other makes when he's trying not to laugh but isn't successful. "Maybe I wanted to undress you myself."

"It wouldn't have been very hard," Yamamoto quips, leaning in to find a suface for his lips to land on. They land on crown of Gokudera's head, catching the smooth strands of silver. "I love you," he says into Gokudera's hair, taking a moment to inhale the faint smell of shampoo and spice.

"I know you do." He's pulling tighter on the restraints around Yamamoto's wrists, the fabric not quite chafing but it's rougher than the tie used as his blindfold. Yamamoto is reaching down with his fingers and running them across the material, allowing for his memory do the thinking for him. His fingertips brush over the pattern of what he guesses is the wider end of the tie. He can feel a difference in texture, trace out something round and imprinted, and when he makes the connection, he can't help but break a smile so wide that it hurts.

"This is the tie I got you last Christmas, isn't it? The one with the little alien guy, right?" He remembers the look on Gokudera's face like last year was yesterday, smiling wide and as jolly as the holiday warrants despite himself.

"It's a hideous and gaudy tie," Gokudera snorts but Yamamoto can hear the smile in his voice and he laughs.

"I thought you loved it," Yamamoto teases as Gokudera's hands leave him once more. He can still feel the presence of the other in front of him, can just barely make out Gokudera's silhouette against the orange glare of the evening sun flooding through their bedroom window. He's moving, Yamamoto can see the shadow of the other's body pass in front of him and then there's more light seeping in through the black of the tie covering his eyes and he's able to see the outline of the bed in front of him, but no Gokudera. Yamamoto listens to the sounds floating around him; cicadas chirping and the buzz of electricity and somewhere in the distance there's a dog barking and someone is shouting. He strains to drown out the intrusive noise, to pick up on the gentle pad of Gokudera's socked feet on the carpet, the faint inhale and the hardly audible beat of the other's heart. He can sense Gokudera is still in the room and it's not like he's worried the other isn't because he honestly and truthfully trusts Gokudera with everything but it's his growing curiosity that makes him call out, "Hayato?"

There's silence -- but not really silence, Gokudera says nothing and isn't trying to be quiet when Yamamoto hears the clink and clatter of something metal, possibliy a belt buckle and then Yamamoto's imagining Gokudera with gaze low and curtained behind his hair while his long, slender fingers work nimbly to undo his dress shirt. He's opening it then, sliding the material off his shoulders and moving on to his belt buckle, glancing up at him through silver fringe as he tries to scowl; maybe a little flush across his cheeks and he's pulling his bottom lip in with his teeth. Gokudera gets the belt loose and he's hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his slacks and boxers altogether, the material he peels from his cock, flushed swollen and anticipating, lets his pants pool at his feet like a puddle of liquid silk and Yamamoto's shivering, his heart is racing and his breath is coming faster succession. He wants to touch his own cock, wants to keep sifting through memory and imagination alike even though the images are nothing compared to the real thing. He wants to touch Gokudera, have his hands fall on the sharp planes and bevels of the other's body and feel the other's thundering pulse beneath his lips, the hard line of the other's length. His skin is prickling with anticipation and when Gokudera's hands and lips settle down on his shoulders from behind, Yamamoto's instantly shuddering at the contact and breathing, " _Hayato_ ," as Gokudera's whispering, "It's my favourite."

Yamamoto has to think for a moment about what it is Gokudera's claiming as his favourite, has to clear past the thick fog that's shrouding his brain except he can't, not when Gokudera's lips are at the nape of Yamamoto's neck, every tepid breath giving way to a shiver, and the other's mouth begins working down the line of Yamamoto's spine, flittering to each vertebrae like butterflies moving in an iridescent pasture full of wildflowers. Yamamoto's folding inward, falling victim to the tranquillising heat emitting from Gokudera's palms that continue to smooth over the ribs of muscle in his back and tease down over his stomach. His hands and his lips have made it to the base of Yamamoto's spine, and Gokudera's fingers are curling around his hipbones, the tips digging in hard enough against his flesh to leave an array of purple and blue, but all Yamamoto feels is a dull pressure and it's not like he cares when each one will later hold a memory of tonight. He's suddenly very pleasantly heavy, his limbs loose and lax and the world around him is going hazy around the edges as Gokudera kisses down his tailbone and stops short at the cleft of his ass. Yamamoto's slowly losing focus, slipping into serenity but it's then he has an epiphany, like a bright light bulb going off in his head.

"Wow -- are you... Is that your _rain_ flame?" Yamamoto's asks in awe, but his speech is slurred, thick with dreamy pleasure and it's all wrong because he's impressed and sincerely proud that Gokudera's rain attribute has become this strong but when he considers it long enough, which is a hard enough feat on his own, Yamamoto is beginning to suspect that the flames are causing him to be hypersensitive, because every stimulation is sparking off his synapses like an electric shock, buzzing heat down throiugh his veins and spreading warmth throughout his limbs until he's burnt out and voluntarily compliant.

"Maybe." Gokudera's voice comes rough and sharp, like it's static charged and he's dragging his teeth along the soft flesh of Yamamoto's ass. He's urging Yamamoto forward with the press of his thumbs in the dimples of Yamamoto's lower back. "Move," he demands, "and put your hands out to brace yourself. You're going to use the edge of the bed to support your weight."

"O-okay." Yamamoto can't really see the bed in front of him now that the sky has darkened outside and offers no light into the room, but he's too dazed out to resist, not like he would anyway. He trusts Gokudera's ability to calculate and so he capitulates, his hands and wrists being bound by the navy blue tie with the little green alien on it don't help, but it's not a hindrance, so he stretches out his arms anyway and leans forward, meeting the soft resistance of the mattress. There's a little strain on his spine at his body being awkwardly bent but he's still relaxed enough that the position doesn't bother him but it's the feel of Gokudera's hands sliding down his thighs that get him melting again. He's knocking Yamamoto's knees open when he gets there, silently encouraging him to spread his legs even further and Yamamoto's complying without hesitation. There's heavy knot of anxious want twisting low in his gut already, his lust addled imagination already anticipating the smoky taste of Gokudera's mouth or the warmth of Gokudera's body pressing into his.

But instead Gokudera remains where he is; on his knees, Yamamoto imagines, the sharp edge of the other's wrist bumping the inside of Yamamoto's thighs as he reaches an arm between them. He feels Gokudera's fingers drag languid over his skin, and he's slowly sliding his mouth down the curve of Yamamoto's ass, breath hot and wet, and tingling sensation is spiking up his spine. He's tensing then shuddering with the motions, the wires in his brain going haywire with sensory overload and he chokes on a gasp when Gokudera's fingers finally brush the base of his aching cock. The touches are teasing, excruciatingly slow and featherlight and Yamamoto's groaning, trying to thrust forward to achieve the friction he so desperately seeks, but Gokudera's other hand is gripping his hip and preventing him from going anywhere, and when Gokudera's tongue suddenly glides up his crease, he's not sure he wants to.

He gasps Gokudera's name the instant the other's hand wraps around his cock and slides up without much effort. It's just gentle stroking from there, barely a touch but it burns like fire and Yamamoto shuts his eyes behind the dark of the blindfold and lets the sensation swamp him. Gokudera's tongue keeps grazing between his cheeks and Yamamoto's breath is coming fast and heavy with anticipation and when Gokudera begins moving his hand a little faster, Yamamoto's legs start to give out to the constant trembling.

"Hayato, I'm --" he moans with a warning, impatience and pleasure building and he hears Gokudera gentle laugh from somewhere behind him.

"I know," he croons, "but not yet. Move on to the bed."

Yamamoto doesn't trust his legs to move, but Gokudera's hands are on his hips, guiding him forward until his knees catch the soft of the mattress. Gokudera's turning him though, so that his back is flat against the bed and Yamamoto's opening his eyes to maybe catch a glimpse of the other through the blindfold when he senses Gokudera hovering over him. It's without reward though, because he still can't see, the room has fallen dark in the dusk but he feels the other's breath fall on his mouth and then Gokudera is kissing him, and Yamamoto's reaching up with bound hands to touch Gokudera's bare skin. He's only able to graze it before the other's out of reach, a dip in the weight of the bed to tell him Gokudera's not on it anymore and then he's speaking from what sounds like the bottom of the bed, where Yamamoto's legs are splayed open wide and from this angle he can touch his cock, can finish himself off and come like he wants to, but it's not good enough if it isn't Gokudera's heated friction causing euphoria to spill out into his veins, so he doesn't move, keeps his wrists pressed against his stomach and fingers loose, waiting eagerly for the next opportunity to touch Gokudera's beautifully pale skin.

"Do you _really_ trust me?" he asks again, this time like he's taunting and Yamamoto's saying, "Yes," before the other's even finished his sentence. It's without question, Yamamoto doesn't even need to think about it. He's never once doubted Gokudera, not even when they were young and he isn't about to start now, years later.

It's seconds before the touch of fabric is sliding up his thigh, smooth like satin, and Gokudera seems to be enjoying taking his time. Yamamoto can't think but he just knows it's another tie and for what, he's unsure of. Then there's heat, wet heat, gliding down his cock before he realises it's Gokudera's mouth, tongue lashing out to lick along the underside of his length. Yamamoto moans, thrusts his hips up without warning -- without any conscious effort at all -- and hits the back of Gokudera's throat. Gokudera hums around his cock, and the coil of pleasure wound tight in his gut is quickly spiraling undone but then Gokudera's suddenly stopping, sliding Yamamoto's cock free, and Yamamoto whines at the loss. He feels like he's drunk, like he's disconnected and disoriented but he's blazing with the want to come he can taste it on the back of his tongue.

"You're driving me _crazy_ ," Yamamoto pants as Gokudera starts wrapping something -- the silk tie -- around his length and sac simultaneously, knotting the material like Christmas ribbon. "Wha--"

"I know," Gokudera replies and Yamamoto imagines the grin on his face, crooked and sly with dancing green eyes to match. Yamamoto's still trying to figure out what Gokudera's doing when he begins tugging on the knot fixed at the base of his sac. "Is this okay?"

It's like a cock ring, Yamamoto assumes, because all the blood has rushed to the tip and he's left solid and stiff and throbbing. "Uh huh." Yamamoto nods slowly, but he's not sure if Gokudera sees him. He doesn't care either, at this point, not when is cock is full and hard and aching and Gokudera's finger's sliding down and brushing over his entrance. Yamamoto's legs tense, his stomach goes taut with expectancy, but Gokudera doesn't push in, he just continues to tease. It isn't for long though, soon Gokudera's pulling apart his cheeks and then his tongue is leaving a damp trail of burning heat and some incoherent curse spurts out of Yamamoto's mouth when Gokudera's tongue enters him. It's hot and wet and moving slow and Yamamoto's jerking with shocks of titillation. He can feel himself on the brink, so close to the edge but he can't come, the tie around his cock prolongs this, so all he can do is writhe against Gokudera's mouth when he begins to feel the pressure of not one, but two fingers enter him, probing deep along with the other's tongue. Yamamoto's sure he's not he's not going to make it, the blindfold is pointless now because his vision's gone all out of focus, every inch of him is burning with desire.

"Hayato, _please_ ," he croaks, throat gone dry from sucking in air like he's forgotten how to breathe. Gokudera doesn't stop, he continues to work Yamamoto open, slow and deliberate and when he crooks and spreads his fingers, he's curling his tongue so that both glide against the walls inside, and the ministrations combined are whiting out Yamamoto's vision, leaving him panting and trembling and arching off the bed. He's fighting to keep some semblance of attention but everything is hot and hazy and all he's able to do is beg for Gokudera to just fuck him.

It's then that Gokudera takes a break, withdraws his fingers slow and he's licking against Yamamoto's entrance before moving on to the insides of Yamamoto's thighs.

"Ah," Yamamoto hisses when he feels Gokudera's teeth sink into his flesh, not in pain, but the shocking sensation jolts up his spine like a lightning bolt and he's arching up off the bed like he's been hit with electric paddles. "Hayato please," he begs once more, and he feels Gokudera's breath on his skin in the shape of a laugh.

"Please, _what_ , Takeshi?" He sounds amused, like he's fully enjoying himself and Yamamoto's pleased with that, would take the time to dwell on the brightness of Gokudera's voice but he's too frantic to focus.

"I want you," is what he says and a frenzied plea is exactly how it sounds.

"Oh? How do you want me? You... want me to fuck you, Takeshi?"

"Hn," Yamamoto manages with a nod of his head and he's biting his lip so hard he thinks he might break the skin. "Y-yes."

"Say it," Gokudera purrs, slipping his fingers into Yamamoto again. There's a whine that erupts from Yamamoto's throat as Gokudera's fingers delve deeper and his mouth can't form words, his brain can't handle coherency, so when he doesn't answer, Gokudera's fingers skew inside him and he's lifting his hips high off the bed, shouting Gokudera's name.

" _Say it_ ," Gokudera repeats, "Say you want me to fuck you, Takeshi."

Yamamoto nods, short bobs with his head and throat feels like it's been scorched with dry ice but he manages, "Fuck... Fuck me, Hayato, please." It's so desperate and wanton, but Yamamoto's never been one to care what he sounds like, especially in moments like these where he feels himself tipping, like he's teetering on a ledge with nowhere to go.

Gokudera hums delight, and Yamamoto can feel the other slide between his legs. "Okay," he says like he's agreeing to a negotiation. "I'm going to fuck you now, Takeshi. That's what you want, right? My cock?"

He's so close that Yamamoto can almost touch him, so close that Yamamoto can feel the flushed heat of the other's skin against his own, can feel the hard line of Gokudera's length pressed up against his ass. He nods in capitulation, opens his mouth to speak but his voice is hoarse and the words are broken as they leave his lips. "Mm, please Hayato, your cock. I want it."

It's a minute that feels like an eternity before he gets a response and then Gokudera's leaning forward and tearing off the blindfold. "Fuck," he groans, and the sound of his voice is gritty like sandpaper and heated with lust and when Yamamoto blinks open his eyes he can see that Gokudera's own are wild and sparkling, his pupils blown out like obsidian glass, swallowing almost all of the green. "Fuck, you look so fucking good." And then his lips are crashing down on Yamamoto's and that's it, Yamamoto's gone off to some other spiritual plane, like he's floating astral in unoccupied space. He tries to reach for Gokudera, to feel the heat of the other's skin through his fingertips but his hands are still bound and his limbs are sore from reflexive tensing of being brought to the edge several times without release.

Yamamoto feels something tickle his skin when Gokudera starts sliding against him, silk or satin or cashmere -- Yamamoto's too far gone to guess the material, but he's pretty sure there must a tie round Gokudera's cock too. All thoughts are derailed anyways, when he threads his tongue past Gokudera's lips and then Gokudera is closing his mouth, capturing Yamamoto's tongue and sucking on it like it were his cock from just moments before. He's whimpering pleasure that comes off muffled and when Gokudera releases his tongue it's to mesh their lips together once again without taking a breath, as if he doesn't need the air to sustain him. Yamamoto's not even sure if he's kissing back at this point, he just knows he's burning from the inside out and that when Gokudera's mouth leaves him, he whines disappointment but it catches in his chest along with his breath when Gokudera pulls back and lines up against his ass and then, "I'm going to fuck you now, Takeshi, hard into the mattress. Do you want that?"

Yamamoto thinks he's nodding, whimpering incoherent noises in agreement and then Gokudera's growling, a sound almost carnal at the back of his throat and Yamamoto's whole body tenses as Gokudera pushes inside him. Yamamoto moans relief, relishing in the burning pressure of being filled instantly and completely, and Gokudera's grabbing on to his thighs and hooking his legs over his arms before he pulls back and snaps his hips forward, entirely wiping out Yamamoto's vision. He howls and Gokudera's humming satisfaction, and Yamamoto feels like his mind's detached from his body, every sensation and snap of Gokudera's hips make him see stars and the only thing keeping him tethered to this reality is the gravelly sound of Gokudera's voice.

"Does it feel good, Takeshi?" and Yamamoto's not sure he can properly, he manages, "Hng," with a bob of his head and Gokudera doesn't take that for an answer because he stops moving altogether, pressing bruises into Yamamoto's thighs when he demands, "Say it. Tell me my cock feels good inside you."

Yamamoto's breath is coming fast and heavy, his chest is heaving and his ass is twitching around the width of Gokudera's length. His own cock is straining, burning with the aching need to release. "Feels good," he finally pants, gulping down air and licking the dry off his chapped lips. "Your cock feels good... inside me."

Gokudera's growl is feral as he grabs at the top of Yamamoto's hips, lifts the lower half of his body off the bed and slams into him all at once. Something strangled erupts from Yamamoto's throat, and he can't see and there is a ringing in his ears. Gokudera's stopping and starting, each time hammering harder and harder until Yamamoto's can only wail supplication, broken sounds that fill the silence of the bedroom. "I want... I want to touch you," he's saying breathlessly and Gokudera groans, stops short of thrust, drops Yamamoto's body back down to the bed and frantically pulls the knot loose in the tie around his wrists. Yamamoto's hands shoot for the tangled mass of wild silver despite the ache in his arms once they're free, and he's dragging Gokudera forward and smashing their mouths together. Gokudera keeps moving, pushing in slow and deep now, completely out of sync with the way he's kissing; frenetically licking the inside of Yamamoto's mouth like it's the first time they've kissed.

"Don't stop," Yamamoto gasps when Gokudera pulls back. " _Please_ , don't stop."

" _Fuck_ ," Gokudera groans and he's pushing forward, there's an aching pull in Yamamoto's thighs but he barely feels it, especially when Gokudera's fingers tangle into his hair and scrape at his scalp. "Fucking christ, you look so hot."

Yamamoto wants to tell Gokudera that he does too, but all that comes out is a breathless moan, hot against Gokudera's lips that are pressing on his own now. They're not even kissing, they're just exchanging breath that they both gulp down like they're drowning, and overwhelming sensation is wound around Yamamoto's entire body, drawing it so tight that he's arched completely off the bed and clinging to Gokudera as the other fucks him, rocking his hips in tandem.

Gokudera stops for a minute, leans forward again and rests his forehead against Yamamoto's. Gokudera's shaking, his skin slick and on fire and the vibration of his heartbeat thrums the speed of a hummingbird's wings against Yamamoto's chest. "Do you --"

"With you," Yamamoto is supplying, before Gokudera has the chance to ask anything, he already knows, he can tell when Gokudera himself is close by the erratic rhythm of his movements, in the way that his whole body begins tensing. "I want to come with you." He's more than ready, it's impossible now to hold out even just a little with the sharp staccato of Gokudera's thrusts, and his throbbing cock rubbing hot, sticky friction against Gokudera's stomach has him drawing taut and ready to combust.

Gokudera doesn't hesitate or stall in his movements, he worms an arm between them and hooks a finger into the fabric, loosens the grip around Yamamoto's length and then his own, and Yamamoto's digging his heels into Gokudera's back, frantically encouraging the other to move faster and harder until Gokudera's pushing so deep inside him he feels like he's momentarily losing consciousness with every drive forward.

Gokudera's hands are back in his hair, head tucked into the crook of his shoulder as he rocks against Yamamoto and the other's lips are brushing the underside of Yamamoto's ear. Yamamoto's not sure what to do with his hands, they're moving from clutching fistfuls of damp, silver hair to digging bright red crescents into Gokudera's back or reaching down to grab onto Gokudera's ass, pushing him deep so that the tip of his cock is hitting his prostate, bringing searing white and sending Yamamoto into overdrive.

It doesn't take long, not even a whole minute before Yamamoto feels the denied wave of pleasure crash into him, stunning him incoherent while he's spurting laces of pearly white over Gokudera's stomach and chest and Gokudera's leaning in, pressing his mouth to Yamamoto's neck. He says something, maybe, and Yamamoto thinks he feels the shape of other's cock pulsing, filling him with heat and everything turns blissfully white, like he's just floated through the proverbial gates of heaven. He's floating and dazed, satiated and disconnected from the  trembling feel of Gokudera's body still vibrating with the aftermath. It's a while, maybe, that Yamamoto's out of it before he hears the sound of Gokudera calling to him as if he were several feet underwater. He feels like he's falling up, falling up to the surface towards Gokudera's voice. Yamamoto's fighting to stay lucid when he opens his eyes and exhales a gust of hot wind that leaves his lungs with so much force that it burns. He feels completely drowned and disoriented, his entire body is quivering with the aftershocks of his orgasm and the world with colour starts rushing in around him.

"Are you okay?" Gokudera's asking him but he can't even muster the energy to open his mouth, it takes too much effort to move his head, but what he does do is smile, because that's simple to do around Gokudera, it comes as easy as breathing to Yamamoto.

"You idiot." Gokudera's voice wavers like he'd distraught and relief is flooding warmth back into it. Yamamoto tries to work up the energy to turn on his side and show Gokudera he's fine but he can't move at all. Gokudera's pushing up on an elbow anyway and he's looming over Yamamoto, looking just as pleasantly sated as Yamamoto feels. "You look so fucking out of it."

"I love you," Yamamoto says, warm like a long-winded sigh. His throat is dry and he's still catching his breath so it comes out no louder than a hoarse whisper, but Gokudera's eyes shine with recognition of the words and he leans forward and presses a kiss to Yamamoto's trembling lips.

"I love you too," he says when he retreats, his infectious smile pulling his mouth wide. A soft pink hue tints the pale of Gokudera's skin and it looks like he's glowing as if he were some heavenly embodiment of some mythical deity. Yamamoto sighs contently, more than happy to bask in Gokudera's radiance for all of eternity.

"You're really so beautiful," Yamamoto insists, and he's sounds awed like he's still captivated by everything Gokudera. It's true, though, Yamamoto doesn't think he'll ever get over the feeling of the warm, swelling pressure sticking to his ribs that comes with loving Gokudera.

Gokudera stalls, his eyes flicker up to meet Yamamoto's through silvery black curtains as if it's the first time he's ever heard them. The words have deepened the colour at his cheeks but he scoffs to throw off the attention and growls, "Be quiet, idiot. You sound delirious."

Yamamoto can't help but laugh. "We ruined a few of your ties, I think." He's catching on to some semblance of clarity, his heart finally slowing down to a normal rhythm. He can move his limbs now, lifts a hand to comb through Gokudera's sweat-damp hair.

Gokudera smiles then, soft and warm before resting his head against Yamamoto's chest. "I have a lot of ties," he says, draping an arm across Yamamoto's waist.

Yamamoto sighs, lets his lids fall heavy with pleasurable promises of the future and Gokudera's radiant heat soaking into his skin. "Mm," he hums warmly, slowly drifting into sleep. "That you do."


End file.
